


Sanguine Febris

by Byrcca



Series: Stuff and Nonsense [4]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s03e16 Blood Fever, Gen, Proto P/T, Sandrine’s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 08:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14209140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byrcca/pseuds/Byrcca
Summary: Set directly after the events of Blood Fever. Tom and an unlikely friend have a chat.





	Sanguine Febris

**Author's Note:**

> This isn’t related to my Blood Fever trilogy, though I suppose it could be...? Naw, this is a little lighter than that angst fest.

Tom sat by himself at the bar in Sandrine’s. He’d dismissed the holocharacters and was soaking up the quiet stillness of familiar surroundings, hoping it would rub off and he could find some mental peace. The holodeck had been empty, and while he didn’t really want company, he didn’t want to be alone, either. He’d set the privacy settings to public in case anyone passing by preferred a smokey bar to the irritating sunshine of the resort programme. He had yet to write his report on the _incident_ today, and he sat at the bar with the padd in his hand staring at the flashing icon. It was waiting, seemingly impatiently, for him to get his thoughts together and begin. 

As if any of it made sense. As if any of it was something he could write down. 

Someone slid a glass in front of him.

Tom looked up, startled. He’d been so wrapped up in his thoughts he hadn’t heard the holodeck doors open. Hadn’t noticed the man sit down near him. Dalby nodded once, then gestured to the glass on the bar. Tom shifted his gaze from the man’s face to the glass. Two fingers of a pale yellow liquid that looked remarkably like piss. But Dalby had a glass of his own, and saluted Tom with it before taking a swig. He pursed his lips as he swallowed, then opened his mouth to suck in air before he placed the glass on the counter. 

“Thanks,” Tom said. 

“Figured you could use it,” Dalby replied. 

Tom took a cautious sip and fought the urge to cough. His eyes watered. Ken just laughed. “That’s not your mama’s synthohol,” Tom commented. “How come I didn’t know about this?”

The other man shrugged. “You’re not an engineer.” 

It was on the tip of Tom’s tongue to ask if B’Elanna knew about it, but he refrained. He was absolutely not going to mention her to one of her subordinates. He wondered where they kept the still. “You’re sure this won’t make me go blind?” he asked, only half joking. 

“Things we’ve seen, might be a relief,” Dalby replied. 

Tom nodded, took another sip. Now that he was prepared, he enjoyed the burn. “So what’s in here,” he asked, “warp plasma?”

Ken turned his head, held Tom’s gaze. “Think about it,” he said. 

Tom lifted the glass so it caught the light. He nodded. “Better here than in another stew,” he said.

“I was in engineering yesterday when B’Elanna punched out Vorik,” Ken commented without preamble. “He hit the deck like a sack of grain.”

Tom nodded and tried not to grin at the image. “Wish I’d seen that,” he said. But he had seen it, in all its violent, terrifying, heart-stopping glory on the planet this afternoon. The maniacal expression on Vorik’s face. B’Elanna’s fist connecting with his jaw, him faltering then rearing up to punch her back. Her staggering under the force of the blow. 

“And I was working to repair the transporters this afternoon.” 

“Ahh,” Tom said. He took another swallow. 

And after Vorik had collapsed, after Tom had grabbed B’Elanna and held her when she’d lost consciousness, after he’d finally handed her over to the doctor once the transporters were back online: her blood on his uniform, smeared on his shoulder. Tom held a breath, let it out slowly. He raised the glass, thankful that his hands had something to hold besides the padd.

He carefully placed the glass on the bartop. Caressed it with his fingertips. “Well, I’m not going—”

The other man shook his head. “I’m not asking.”

Tom had to know. This man was a former Maquis, one of B’Elanna’s own. “What are people saying?”

He shrugged. “Lots of ridiculous stuff. A few things that could be true. Enough for me to think you could use that.” He motioned to the glass in Tom’s hand. 

Tom shook his head. Smiled. “You weren’t wrong.”

“She’s okay?”

He didn’t have to specify who he meant. Tom shifted on the stool. “Yeah, I guess.” He glanced at the other man, looked back at his drink. “The doc threw me out of sickbay, but,” he shrugged. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

Ken nodded. “Good. I’m glad you were down there to take care of her. She can, you know, take risks, sometimes.” 

Tom nodded. B’Elanna didn’t always have the coolest head, and it was likely that Dalby had witnessed B’Elanna’s temper first hand on numerous occasions, both here on _Voyager_ and back in their Maquis days. As if he’d picked up on Tom’s thoughts, Dalby spoke again.

“I didn’t think much of you back then,” he said. 

“Okay.” Tom stiffened. 

“We all had our reasons to be there. You…” he trailed off, shook his head.

“I didn’t. Not like yours.” Tom nodded. 

“It was an insult, to only be there because Chakotay paid you,” he elaborated. He lifted his glass again and drained it. Tom admired his skill with the liquor. 

“I didn’t get paid,” Tom said. He hadn’t been around long enough. “I was captured when I took the shuttle out.” But he would have been though, eventually, if he hadn’t been caught. Semantics. 

“Yeah,” Dalby grunted. 

Tom looked over at the older man. “I’m sorry,” he offered. “I didn’t see it that way before. I just wanted to fly again.”

Ken nodded. “It’s okay. You’re okay, Tom,” he said. 

Tom sent him a little smile. “Thanks.”

The other man nodded and slipped off his stool. He picked up his empty glass and motioned to the one in Tom’s hand. “You done with that?” he asked. Tom downed the last half-finger of the fiery liquid and felt his eyes tear up. He fought, (and lost) a short coughing fit. Dalby grinned and slapped Tom on the back. 

As Tom handed him the glass, he noticed it had an engraving and crest on the side: _U.S.S. Voyager_. Tom just smiled and handed it over. “See you around, Ken.”

“You should come by engineering more often,” Dalby said. “B’Elanna likes it when you drop in.”

“She does?” Tom spun in his stool to face him, hope and happiness rushing through him warming his blood, tightening his gut, flushing his skin. 

“Yeah,” the other man replied. “She always seems more cheerful when you leave.”

Tom laughed and nodded, and swung his stool back to face the bar and picked up his padd.


End file.
